


Fading Scars

by Rachel_Riot



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Epistolary, M/M, Post-Canon, Singapore, Sunset Ending 2.0, mentions of Finn, past JP/Ste
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel_Riot/pseuds/Rachel_Riot
Summary: Connecting the dots from the phone call to the reunion (and beyond).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling nostalgic a couple of weeks ago and I ended up watching pretty much the entirety of the McDean storyline on YouTube. Even though it's been a year since John Paul left and nearly ten years (!) since the Sunset Ending, I apparently still have a lot of feelings about these two and I needed to explore how they got from the phone call on the plane to “Craig's in Singapore”. This was the result.

It starts with a question.

“So what are you going to do with the money when you're a millionaire?”

It's an hour after Craig handed over his ID pass and officially ceased being employed as an account manager at the legal software company where he's worked for the past six years. Niamh, his surrogate sister and favourite drinking buddy, has met him for a celebratory drink after work. She smiles around her Chardonnay as she waits for an answer. 

Craig laughs. He isn't rich. Not even close. He's only just able to pay himself enough of a salary to justify leaving his job and officially go self-employed. But for the first time since he was a teenager, he has faith. Success feels tangible, not like a pipe dream. 

“Oh, you know,” Craig says breezily, “house in Bali, brand new Lamborghini, my own yacht – nothing major.”

Niamh gives him one of her piercing looks that says she knows he's full of shit, and motions to the bartender for another round of drinks. Craig mutters that he'll be back in a moment and slinks away to the back of the pub.

An all-too familiar stone of guilt is rolling in his stomach. For years he's told himself that if things work out, if he's successful, if this, if that – he'll do the right thing. Well, here he is. 

He sneaks out the back door to the small beer garden where the smokers are huddled together and pulls out his phone. Four years and three months, but he's never deleted the number. He's almost done it a few times but even though he stopped following John Paul on Facebook and told his mum he didn't want to hear anything about his life, he always hesitated over the delete button, the way he hesitates now over the call button. 

His thumb makes a quick swipe and his heart doubles its pace.

He listens to the tinny ringing tone. It's ringing for too long. He isn't going to pick up. He's going to tell Craig to piss off. This is a daft idea. 

“Craig?”

That hint of a northern accent, that familiar warmth. Just one word and suddenly memories bombard Craig's senses.

“Craig?” His voice is tighter the second time, more insistent.

“Hi. John Paul. Hi. It's me.”

“Yeah, I got that when your name came up. You okay?”

“Yeah, I am. I'm really good actually. That's sort of why I'm calling.”

“You're calling to tell me you're really good?”

“No...” He grips the phone tighter and tries to steady his thoughts. “I've just left my job. It was my last day today, actually. See, I've designed an app and I've got some investment in it from this company in America, so I'm going to do it full time. It's making a decent amount of money, not loads yet, but I hope it'll get bigger and, well, I was thinking about what I want to do with the money – not that I've got loads yet but I will do, I hope, and-”

“Craig, can you get to the point?”

“Right. So, I want to set up a trust fund for Matthew,” he blurts out. He hears a brief hitch of breath on the other end of the phone and he presses on before John Paul can interrupt. “See, I was joking about getting a house in Bali and buying a fancy car but... I want to do this. I owe him. And before you start saying you don't need my money, I know you don't. But I want to do this and I'm going to do it, so please don't get all stubborn and _John Paul_ about it.”

“Oi, what's that supposed to mean?”

“You know.”

There's a faint voice in the background of the call, distant and indistinct. 

“Craig, I really can't talk about this right now,” John Paul says, his voice heavy with a sigh.

“Please-”

“No, I _really_ can't. I'm on a plane, it's going to take off in a minute, I've got to turn my phone off.”

“Oh. You off on holiday?”

“Actually, I'm leaving. I'm going to Singapore. I've got a job waiting for me.”

“ _Singapore_?” Craig stutters. “That's... the other side of the world.”

“That's sort of the point,” John Paul replies. “I need to put a few thousand miles between me and Hollyoaks.” 

“Is Matthew going with you?”

“Of course he is.” 

“Right.” Craig brings his hand up to the back of his head and starts pulling at his hair. All the times he's had this conversation in his head over the years, he never imagined it would end with John Paul announcing he was emigrating to another continent. “How long's the flight?”

“About thirteen hours. Craig, I really do have to go.”

“Sorry. Yeah. Let me know when you land, yeah?”

“I'll send you a message when we're settled in.”

“Right.”

There's a brief pause, then John Paul says, “It's really good to hear your voice.”

Craig feels a smile tugging at his mouth. “You too.”

“I've gotta go. Bye.”

When Craig says goodbye in return, it's to dead air.

He clutches his phone to his chest and leans back against the wall. The sun is starting to set and is spreading an eerie, burnished glow over the beer garden.

Craig knows it's daft to be upset that John Paul is moving so far away. Whether it's just the Irish Sea separating them or two continents, it doesn't change the fact they aren't together.

It's not like Craig has spent the past four years pining over John Paul. He's moved on. He's had relationships. He's fallen in love, he's had great sex and John Paul hasn't ever been the reason things haven't worked out. 

“Craig? You okay?”

He jumps, his reverie shattering. Niamh is standing in the doorway, concern etched on her face.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I called John Paul.”

“I got that far. And?”

“He's moving to Singapore.”

“Bit of an extreme reaction.”

Somehow he manages to laugh. Niamh brings her hand up and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze. She didn't know John Paul that well and wasn't his biggest fan – his stupid jealousy over their friendship saw to that – but she was there while Craig tried to pick up the pieces of his heart. She's nursed him through his break-ups since then too – Laura who couldn't handle his 'mood swings', Nadine who got a job in New Zealand and Fiona who cheated on him. She's listened to his many diatribes over the years, rants about John Paul's insecurities and self-righteousness, how much Craig hates himself for doing what his own father did to him, how he's afraid he's never going to find someone who loves him as much as John Paul did. She knows Craig has unfinished business. 

“Do you need to get drunk?” she asks.

“I can't, I have too much to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but you can call in sick to yourself now.”

He smiles at her but says, “I think I'm just gonna go home.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding. “Call me if you change your mind.”

* * *

 **From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Hey  
**Sat 11/03/2017 03:04 (GMT+8)**

Hi Craig,

It's 3am tomorrow morning here but because jet lag is a bitch I'm wide awake, so I thought I'd email you. I'm assuming you still use this email address. 

It was nice to hear from you yesterday (or the day before yesterday for me, I suppose). Weird and unexpected but still nice.

You're right that I don't need your money and you're wrong that you owe Matthew anything. You're not his biological dad, I am. But I'm not going to get stubborn about anything – it's your money, you can do what you like with it. I'm sure Matthew will be very grateful when he's older.

So what's this app all about then? And when did you get all techy??

JP 

  


**From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Fri 10/03/2017 19:24 (GMT)**

Hi John Paul,

That's brilliant! I'll start setting it all up. Honestly, I thought you were going to tell me to get lost! What's your new address so I can send you the paperwork? Or do you want me to send it to your mum's?

The app is kind of like Groupon but it's more localised and personalised – it ties in to your social media accounts and you can get real-time offers on your phone using GPS... I won't bore you with the techy details, mostly because I don't fully understand them myself and I'm paying a development company a lot of money to do the actual coding and whatnot. I've got a website though – inthemoment.com – if you're really interested. I started out just on the Trinity campus last year as a test and it worked pretty well. I persuaded some of the places you used to DJ at to do exclusive offers for me and that really helped it take off. So I guess I have you to thank for all my success. :) I rolled it out across Dublin late last year, and now that I've got investment it's going to the rest of Ireland and the UK this summer. Hopefully it'll go to the rest of Europe by the end of the year – maybe even worldwide in a couple of years. I've got some ideas on how to expand the business model as well but I really won't bore you with that. I'm pretty excited anyway.

Are you asleep yet?

Craig 

  


**From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 07:48 (GMT+8)**

Hi Craig,

Yes, apparently. I passed out on the sofa sometime in the twenty minutes between emailing you and you replying. I woke up half an hour ago when Matthew came and jumped on me cos he wanted to watch Paw Patrol. Urrrrgh. 

I nearly did tell you to get lost, to be honest. You've never even seen Matthew and then suddenly you call out of the blue and try to throw money at him. I wanted to tell you to go screw yourself. But then I had a thirteen hour flight to think things over. About a year ago I found out my mum had this letter from my real father (long story) that she'd never told me about and I was soooo angry with her. If I told you to piss off now, Matthew would be just as angry with me in the future if he ever found out.

I've got my new address written down somewhere, I'll find it and let you know. Don't send it to my mum, she'll get all weird about me talking to you. 

JP 

  


**From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 09:35 (GMT)**

1\. Ouch. Does Myra hate me that much?

2\. What the fuck is Paw Patrol?

3\. What do you mean, your 'real father'?? You can't just say 'long story' and leave it at that!!

Craig

  


**From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 19:18 (GMT+8)**

1\. She doesn't _hate_ you exactly, she's just overprotective when it comes to me and you.

2\. Be grateful that you don't know!!

3\. Yeah... turns out Ricky wasn't really my dad. My real dad was a Scottish bloke named Iain who is now a Scottish woman named Sally. She and my mum were best mates, they had a one-night stand, I was the result. She was just starting to accept that she was transgender at the time so she couldn't cope with having a kid as well. Finding it all out was a bit of a head-fuck for me, to put it mildly. It's been great getting to know her though. She's absolutely lovely and having her in my life feels like I've found a puzzle piece that I didn't even realise was missing. 

She's actually the one who sorted things out for me to come here (she's the headmistress at Hollyoaks High – yes, my long-lost parent was also my boss). I've got a week until I actually start teaching here. The school is on spring break at the moment so I've got some time to settle in and get over the jet lag. I've got a meeting with the principal on Monday though. Matthew and I went for a walk this afternoon and figured out where the nearest shops are and all that. He is very excited about all the parks. I'm less excited about the fact that it's 29 degrees in March.

I've just had a look at your website – Craig, that looks ace! Seriously mate, that is amazing. I'm dead proud of you. 

So what are you up to today? Weird that the day's nearly over for me but it's not even lunchtime for you.

JP 

  


**From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 11:47 (GMT)**

Are you winding me up? I honestly can't tell if you're winding me up. 

Assuming you're not... I'm happy for you. It's really cool you and your dad have found each other.

Although is 'dad' the right word to use if he's now a she? She can't be your mum, you've already got one of them. But then, I suppose Matthew would have had two dads if we'd stayed together. Huh. Yeah, head-fuck sounds about right.

Yeah, I've got a good feeling about it all. I know I was always having hare-brained ideas and getting overexcited about being a millionaire within a year, but this actually feels like it's going to go somewhere. I've got investors who believe in me at least. If someone asks me what I do now, I can say I run my own business instead of having to say I work for someone else. That's a nice feeling. 

I'm actually working today. I know, I know, it's the weekend but I've still got loads to do. Right now I'm supposed to be reviewing the terms and conditions my solicitor (yes, I have a solicitor!) has drawn up.

Mate, I know fuck-all about Singapore (other than I really like their vermicelli noodles) but even I know it's HOT. That's what happens when you move somewhere near the equator. I hope you stocked up on factor 50 before you left – we don't want a repeat of the Great Picnic Disaster of '09.

C x

  


**From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Att** : 190816_JPG  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 20:39 (GMT+8)**

Definitely not, especially as I don't have you to rub aloe vera all over my shoulders this time. 

I bought some suncream this afternoon, don't worry. I didn't actually bring any with me – didn't have time to think about it really. I left in a bit of a rush. 

And no, I am not winding you up! I've attached a picture of the two of us, see for yourself. 

STOP WORKING, IT'S SATURDAY.

Sorry this is a bit short but I'm knackered so I'm going to go to bed. 

JP x

P.S. Your ideas weren't hare-brained, you just didn't have enough faith in yourself.

  


**From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sat 11/03/2017 19:32 (GMT)**

YES SIR!

No really, I stopped working. I went to the pub after lunch to watch the footie :) Do you remember Ciara, the girl who worked at The White Lion? She's still there and I told her I'd been emailing you today and she did a weird thing with her eyebrows and then said to say that she said hi.

Ciara says hi.

OMG THAT'S WHERE YOU GET YOUR BLUE EYES FROM!!! THAT'S SO WEIRD!!!

I've had a few pints. Are you getting a decent night's sleep?

Why did you leave in a rush?

C xxx

  


**From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sun 12/03/2017 10:01 (GMT+8)**

Bless. You're so cute when you're drunk.

Things just got a bit weird in Hollyoaks. I know that's like saying water is wet, but they did. I'd been seeing this bloke for a while and he was really intense. He asked me to marry him and I said yes but honestly, I shouldn't have done cos I knew I didn't love him. Anyway, we broke up a few days ago and I just needed to get away. It wasn't just cos of him though. I dunno how much your mum has told you about me over the past few years but I've not had the best of luck – romantically or otherwise. I've made a lot of mistakes and I needed a change.

Look at us – me moving away, you getting your own business. We're finally sorting our lives out!

JP xxx

  


**From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Re: Hey  
**Date: Sun 12/03/2017 11:16 (GMT)**

Go us!

And I was not drunk! I've lived in Ireland for way too long to get drunk on three pints of Guinness. I was just in a good mood.

To be honest, I asked my mum ages ago not to talk about you so I don't know anything that's happened in your life. I know that probably sounds really bad but a few months after we split up, she mentioned something about you seeing someone and it just hurt.

I'm with you on the romantic bad luck. I don't have any more broken engagements behind me but my last girlfriend cheated on me a few months ago. That's probably overdue karma, isn't it? My girlfriend before that got a job in New Zealand – we'd been together eighteen months so she asked me to go with her but I said it wasn't fair of her to ask me to uproot my life for her. She got really angry and said it didn't make any sense that I wanted to stay cos I was always complaining about how much I hated my job and then she called me a hypocrite cos I'd got you to move to be with me. I pointed out that moving from England to Ireland was a bit different than moving from Ireland to New Zealand, but she was right. I wasn't willing to move that far to be with her, so that was that. 

Before that – my first proper relationship after you – I got dumped a week before Christmas because (and I quote), “I didn't want to take you to my mum's for Christmas, knowing I was just waiting to break up with you.”

Right, go on. I've shown you mine, you show me yours.

Also, not that I don't like this emailing, but do you fancy Skyping some time? I've still got the same username.

C xxx

* * *

Craig is finishing his lunch – cheese and pickle sandwich – and scrolling through the TV channels when he hears the bleeping tune of the Skype ringtone. He darts over to his computer and his stomach does a somersault when he sees the words:

_John Paul McQueen  
incoming call_

For a moment they just stare. John Paul's hair is a little shorter, the lines of his face stronger, but those blue eyes are unmistakable and the smile that creeps across his face transports Craig back to being twenty-one.

“Hey,” John Paul says.

“Hey.”

“I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nah. It's raining. I was just watching some telly. What you up to?”

“Just been prepping for my meeting tomorrow,” he says, holding up some papers. “I've never actually met Mr Shiang so I want to impress him.”

“I'm sure you will. Go on then, show me your new place.”

John Paul swivels his laptop screen around to display the apartment. The living area is open plan, all chrome and neutrals, built-in appliances and bifold doors leading out onto a wide balcony. It's completely removed from the warm chaos he remembers of the McQueen house.

“It's posh,” Craig says.

“Yeah, it's all right. I was a bit nervous, I didn't actually know where we'd be living when we got here – I was just told the school provided accommodation.”

“Wow, you really did leave in a rush.”

He shrugs. “It's an adventure.”

They chat for almost an hour about nothing in particular, before John Paul says he needs to get some sleep before his meeting tomorrow. 

Over the next few days their Skype calls become a daily fixture. John Paul fills Craig in on his romantic misadventures over the past few years and Craig has to concede that John Paul's had it worse (it takes Craig a minute to place the name 'Ste Hay' and he bursts out laughing when he realises _that's_ who John Paul was briefly married to).

“He's changed a lot since we were at school!”

“I bloody well hope so!”

He stops laughing when John Paul sheepishly admits what happened between them just before he left.

“So you and him... there's still something between you?”

“No,” John Paul says firmly. “It's over. What happened was a mistake – my latest in a long line. Ste and I were, briefly, happy together and it was about the only good time in my life over the past few years. I was trying to cling onto that.” He gives a self-depricating laugh. “Are you getting why I had to leave so quickly?”

“I'm wondering if Singapore was far enough.”

John Paul tells Craig about Carmel as well, and the news hits Craig like a gut punch. She was always his favourite of John Paul's clan (she was the one who was nicest to him) and he knows only too well the pain of losing a sister.

It's always evening in Singapore when they talk, after Matthew has gone to bed. Craig tries asking a few questions about him but it feels awkward, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, and he can see John Paul is reluctant to let him in to the life of the boy who was supposed to be theirs. He shows Craig a few pictures on his phone though.

“My god, that’s Chloe's smile!”

“I know, right! I just hope he's not as much trouble as her when he gets older.”

It's Friday when Craig makes an offhand comment about Niamh trying to persuade him to go out later and he can see the subtle shift in John Paul's expression instantly.

“Niamh?” he says.

“Yeah, we used to work together, remember?”

“I remember. I didn't know you were still in touch with her.”

“She's a good mate.”

He nods. He's not looking at the screen anymore. “Did you two ever get together?”

Craig feels his jaw clench. “No, because we never fancied each other. She looks like Steph – I'm not going to fancy someone who looks like my sister, that's gross. And every guy I've known her date has been minimum 6'2”, blond, clean-shaven and built like a rugby player.”

“All right, all right. I'm sorry.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes. “I know there was never anything going on between you two when we were together.”

“No, there wasn't.”

Something has shifted. The elephant in the room hasn't exactly been pointed out but its blown its trumpet so loud it can no longer be ignored. Craig isn't at all surprised when John Paul says:

“Where did you go when you left?”

“London,” Craig says. “I stayed with Jake for a bit.”

“How was that?”

“It was awful. I spent Christmas sleeping on his sofa, eating junk food and listening to Adele songs on repeat.”

John Paul smiles but it looks forced. “Wow, I pushed you to _Adele_. That is hardcore.”

“She was the only one who understood my pain.” He closes his eyes. The memories he's tried so hard to quash over the past few years come tumbling back. “I went back to Dublin in the New Year, after I found out you'd gone home... it was horrible. It was like that first year without you all over again but worse 'cos instead of imagining you in places, I was remembering you. Going back to the flat on my own was just...” he trails off, not trusting his voice. After a moment, he takes a breath and says, “I kept finding clothes that still smelled like you.” 

“You were the one who left Craig.”

Craig doesn't bother trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. “You pushed me to leave.”

“Seriously? Four years and you're still spinning that line?”

“Four years and you still think it was all my fault?” 

“You walked out on me – and you walked out on Matthew.”

“You are such an idiot,” Craig says. His voice is rising now. “I left _for_ him.” 

“How the hell do you figure that one out? You told me you didn't want him.”

“I told you I didn't feel ready to be a father, and that I was only doing it to keep you happy, I did not ask you to tell Chloe that we'd changed our minds when she was weeks away from giving birth. You did that on your own.”

“Yeah, for you!”

“Exactly! I didn't want to be a dad but I agreed to it to keep you happy. You wanted to be a dad but you were going to throw it away to keep me happy. We were going round in circles, trying to cling on to a relationship that we both knew was over. One of us had to make the choice. I knew that if I wasn't there, you'd take the baby and you'd be an amazing dad.”

“That is utter bullshit. Craig, I nearly handed him over to Social Services!”

“You didn't though, did you? You never would have done.” 

John Paul's expression becomes steel. “Fuck you. Don't you dare sit there looking all smug, trying to make out like you did Matthew a favour by walking out on him.”

“John Paul-”

“I can't do this anymore. Don't call me again.”

* * *

 **From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : Please read this  
**Date: Sat 17/03/2017 01:27 (GMT)**

John Paul,

I don't want to leave it like that. Not again. I know you're probably going to delete this email or get fed up with me half way through it but there's a lot of things I've been wanting to say to you for over four years and I can't sleep cos it's all going round in my head so I need to get it all out. 

You were everything to me. Absolutely everything. I wanted us to be forever. I wanted to marry you someday. Leaving you broke me into a million pieces and I don't think I've ever properly put myself back together. 

Niamh was a mate. That's all she ever was and all she ever will be. I could talk to her about things I couldn't talk to you about – how I felt like a failure, how miserable I was at work. I couldn't tell you any of that cos I felt like I was letting you down. I had such big dreams when I left university and instead I got stuck in that job that was all targets and people breathing down my neck. I was depressed and I went out partying all the time to make myself feel better. It probably wasn't the best way to handle things but guess what? I'm not perfect. But all I got from you was accusations and jealousy. I never cheated on you, not ever. 

And then there was your insistence – your constant nagging at me – to 'admit' that I was gay. Do you know why I never did that? BECAUSE I'M NOT. 

I'm not straight either, I know that. If I ever have to fill in a form that asks my sexual orientation, I tick the box that says 'bisexual' cos it's probably the closest thing to the truth. I don't feel entirely comfortable with it cos I feel it's misleading when I do prefer women.

You're not the only man I've ever slept with anymore. A couple of years ago Niamh – yes, the same Niamh who you hated so much – left work and went to train as a yoga teacher. She got a job at a gym and she introduced me to one of the personal trainers there. His name was Kyle, he made it clear he was interested in me right from the start, and Niamh persuaded me to try going on a date with him. So we did and afterwards I went back to his place and we had sex. It wasn't great but it wasn't awful. It definitely wasn't a big revelation of what I'd been missing or anything like that. Mostly it made me miss you and I had no desire to see him again afterwards. 

John Paul, you and I lived together for four years. I had pictures of you on my desk at work. I introduced you to everyone as my boyfriend. We went to Dublin Pride together, FFS! What part of any of that makes you think I was in denial?

You always took it as an insult when I said I wasn't gay when actually it meant that you were special. Yeah, part of me is attracted to men but more of me fancies women and it's easier to date women, it just is – but you were the one man who broke through and I'd have spent the rest of my life with you if you'd let me.

But I know why you were like that. You were insecure cos of how I treated you that summer back in Hollyoaks. I get it. It pissed me off that you had this black-and-white world view and it really hurt that you still didn't trust me after so long, but I get it. So when you started going on about us having a baby, even though I thought you were nuts, I said yes cos I thought maybe it might make you more secure about me – about us. In hindsight I know how stupid that was. I guess I didn't really think of the baby as an actual person until he was nearly here. Again, stupid, I know. Jesus, John Paul, I could barely look after myself, how was I supposed to look after a kid? 

You had this image in your head of the perfect life, the perfect couple, the perfect family, and I wasn't good enough. I hate myself for the way things ended between us but I honestly, truly believe that I did the best thing I could have done in a shitty situation with no easy answers. Maybe you think that's bullshit. Maybe it is. But even if I'd stayed, things would have fallen apart eventually, only Matthew would have been there to see it, so it would have been worse. 

But don't you dare ever think that leaving was easy. It was the hardest thing I've ever done cos when we were good, my god, John Paul, we were amazing. 

The truth is, I've never stopped loving you. From when I was 18 years old, to now, and for the rest of my life. I love you. I will always love you. Wherever I go, whatever I do and whoever I'm with, part of me will always belong to you. 

If I never hear from you again, at least I've said that.

Your Craig xxx


	2. Chapter 2

John Paul reads the email on Sunday morning, his last day before he's supposed to start teaching Shakespeare and Chaucer to the children of business leaders and diplomats at the Wardale International School. He reads it ten times in a row and mentally curses Craig for doing this to him again.

He'd run back to Hollyoaks to escape the mess he'd made of things with Craig, now he's run away to Singapore to escape the mess he made of things with James and Ste and Scott and Danny and Lockie, yet it's Craig once again who's invading his thoughts and making his heart pound.

He promised Matthew he wouldn’t do this. It’s just going to be the two of them, Matthew is his number one, that’s what he’d said. How can he break that promise so quickly? The easiest thing would be to forget the email and move on with his life. He already has a hundred regrets over Craig, what’s one more?

He deletes the email, then immediately regrets it and hits undo. 

Instead he closes his laptop and throws himself into preparing for tomorrow. The international baccalaureate curriculum is different than the one he's used to but he knows and loves all the books and plays he's expected to teach.

His first day goes miraculously well. The kids are all switched-on and engaged. He has a proper, insightful debate about the allegories in _The Crucible_ in his first lesson. 

The Head of the English Department is a woman named Janet who plays sixties music far too loud in her office, has a penchant for multi-coloured pashminas and still speaks with a broad Welsh accent despite telling John Paul she's been an ex-pat since 1986 (she also tells John Paul all about her son, Sam, who's just turned thirty and lives in Australia with his wife and children – Logan is a year older than Matthew, Caitlin a year younger – and how much she misses them all, and it doesn't take John Paul long to realise he's found a surrogate mum here).

He tries his best not to think about Craig but in the evenings, when Matthew is in bed and he's finished his marking, and it gets to the time they'd been Skyping with each other, he can't help but go back and read his words again.

He can't talk to anyone in his family about this because he knows they'll all tell him to stay away from Craig. He considers calling Sally but he can't be sure it won't get back to Myra. He even briefly thinks about calling Ste but that would be too weird. God, he wishes Tina or Carmel were still around. They'd have listened without judgement and known exactly what he needed to hear. 

But there's no-one. He has to figure this out on his own. 

* * *

 **From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Subject** : Re: Please read this  
**Date: Sat 24/03/2017 21:20 (GMT+8)**

Hi Craig,

I know it's been a week but I didn't know what to say. I still don't, really. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you that I still love you too? I do. I always have done. I think loving you is a fundamental part of who I am – but that doesn't change the fact that you broke my heart.

I know you never cheated on me. I know I was jealous and that was really unfair and I'm sorry. But come on – put yourself in my shoes for a second. You shut me out of your life and started spending loads of time with this gorgeous woman after years insisting you're not really gay. What was I supposed to think? Craig, if you'd just talked to me and told me how you were feeling, none of this would have happened. Do you think I wouldn't have understood? I used to dream of being a professional DJ before I got sensible and decided to do the teacher training course. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't good enough. You were always good enough. You were everything I wanted. 

I don't have a black and white worldview! I know sexuality is a spectrum and all that but the way you talked always made me feel like you and I were fragile. I know you loved me but sometimes I felt like you didn't _want_ to love me. Does that make sense?

I do think it's bullshit that you leaving Matthew was the best thing for him. How can that be true? You were supposed to be his dad, you were supposed to love him. You and I both know what it's like to have fathers abandon us and I've never understood how you could do that to him. I've thought so many times over the past few years about how I'm going to explain things to him when he gets older and starts asking questions about where he comes from. Do I lie and tell him I just wanted to have a baby on my own? Or do I tell him about you and leave him wondering why you didn't want him? Part of why I said yes to your trust fund idea was because it's proof for him that you have thought about him. That's nice for me to know as well.

But – and this is a big but – I do believe that you thought you were doing the right thing. Craig, I have been so angry with you for the past four years and when you started trying to defend yourself last week, it brought all that anger back. I've spent a lot of time this week going over it all in my head though and I've realised that I forgive you. I have to – I can't keep carrying this anger around. I know you were never malicious. You were selfish and stupid but so was I. 

I know I have to accept my share of the blame too. I know I let jealousy get the better of me. I know I shouldn't have pushed you into having a kid when you weren't ready (but I can't regret doing that because that means I'd regret Matthew and he's the best thing that's ever happened to me). I know I buried my head in the sand and let you do the same instead of facing our problems. 

I've had a lot of really awful things happen to me over the past few years. Really, really awful. I've done awful things too. I've really hurt people. And it turns out I have the worst taste in men (no offence). I have tried so hard to move on from you. I got married for god's sake! And yeah, the marriage was so short it would have embarrassed the Kardashians but I still loved the bones of him.

But I miss you. Talking to you and seeing your face again has made me realise just how much I miss you. When we broke up, I didn't just lose my boyfriend, I lost my best friend. I miss that so much. Yeah, I miss kissing you and holding you and waking up next to you, but I also miss you thrashing me at Call of Duty and us making up daft games when we were bored and staying up until 2am arguing about whether Iron Man is cooler than Batman (he is). I miss you nicking my chips when we got takeaway on Friday nights. I miss Sunday afternoons playing footie in Phoenix Park. I miss my best mate and I'd really love it if I could have him back in my life. 

JP xxx

* * *

Half an hour after he hits send, John Paul hears the familiar _bleep bleep_ of Skype. He runs to his laptop, his hands trembling slightly as he accepts the call. 

“Hi,” Craig says. It might just be the picture quality, but his eyes look slightly red-rimmed.

“Hi,” John Paul says.

“I miss my best mate too.”

“I'm really glad you called. I don't mean just now, I mean-”

“I know.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, drinking each other in, no more words needed. John Paul takes the opportunity to properly study Craig's face and the subtle changes that the past four years have wrought – how his cheeks have narrowed slightly, how his eyes now have the first hints of crows feet at the corners. They're no longer the kids they were when they first fell in love.

“I'm really jealous that you married someone else,” Craig says.

“I'm kinda jealous that you've slept with another man. Makes me feel less special.”

“So you want me to say I'm gay but you don't want me to sleep with any other men?”

“I didn't say it made sense.”

“What are we like, eh?” Craig says.

“Right pair of idiots.”

“Batman's way cooler than Iron Man.”

“You're clearly the bigger idiot.”

“So how's your first proper week been?”

“Oh, it's brilliant,” John Paul says, slipping back into the ease of conversation with Craig. “The curriculum is _so_ much more interesting and I'm actually encouraged to put my own spin on things. No more Ofsted watching everything!”

“Nice one.”

“How's your first week of self-employment been?”

“It's tough, there's a lot to think about. I love it though. I've finally got a job I can do in my pyjamas!”

Their daily Skype calls are immediately re-instated. They get into a routine – lunchtime in Dublin is about the time John Paul is finishing his marking and getting ready for bed in Singapore. He starts taking his laptop into his bedroom and some nights they only hang up when John Paul starts falling asleep.

They re-friend each other on Facebook and the first time John Paul comments on one of Craig's posts, Michaela pops up and says, _WT-actual-F? When did you two start talking again?_

They talk about their days, they reminisce about Dublin, they tell each other everything they've missed in their lives (almost everything – there are some things John Paul isn't ready to say yet). They talk about football and music and movies. Sometimes they talk about Matthew. They remember why they became best friends so quickly when they were teenagers. They go back to being John-Paul-and-Craig, the original recipe. 

As the weeks go on, the gaps in what John Paul has told Craig grow wider until they feel like caverns he's going to topple into at any moment. One night in late April, he opens a bottle of beer before Craig calls and resolves to tell him everything, no matter how ugly it is.

But when he comes to it, he finds himself dancing around the words, making vague allusions.

Craig purses his lips together. “You can tell me anything you know,” he says. “We've already seen each other at our worst, I can handle it. Go on, what happened?”

“I, um...” John Paul stutters, his heart in his throat. “I went to prison for a couple of months,” he says, and god, he hates how that is easier to say than the _other_ thing.

“Shit,” Craig says. “What did you do?”

“I got sent down for assault. I punched one of my students. He was a nightmare – he was always making homophobic comments and making my life hell and I just snapped.”

A frown flickers across Craig's face. “What aren't you telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I know you, John Paul. That doesn't sound like you. I've seen how you deal with homophobes – yeah, it gets to you but you just cut them down with some scathing comment and make them look like idiots. If someone starts on you, you'll finish it, but I don't think I've ever seen you throw the first punch.”

“I wish you'd been around to say all that at the time.”

“What happened?”

He tries to shrug it off. “The stuff he was saying... it went on for ages, it just got too much.”

“What happened?” Craig repeats, and John Paul knows he isn't going to let this go. 

He looks away from the screen, over to the doors that lead out onto his balcony. Singapore twinkles in the darkness. “It's not easy for me to say.”

“John Paul, look at me.”

He turns back. Craig is leaning forward, his face and shoulders filling the screen. He looks so close it makes John Paul ache. 

“It's me. It's Craig – your Craig. I've been your best mate since you were seventeen. There's nothing you can't tell me.”

And so John Paul takes a deep breath and tells him about Finn. He sees Craig flinch when he says that brutal, ugly word, but he doesn't recoil. He listens silently, intently, giving John Paul space to talk. John Paul keeps thing vague at first but as he goes on details scatter themselves through his words.

When he's done, Craig swipes his hand over his eyes and simply says, “God, I wish I could give you a hug right now.”

“I wish you could too.”

Craig puts his hand up to the screen and John Paul raises his in return. They touch, fingertip to fingertip, and John Paul wishes so hard he could curl his fingers through the screen, cross the distance between them, and wrap his hand around Craig's.

* * *

It's an uneventful Thursday towards the end of May when Craig says:

“Something weird happened to me yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” John Paul says. Craig has called him earlier than usual and he's set his laptop on the kitchen counter while he cleans up from dinner.

“Yeah,” Craig says. “This girl at the web design place asked me if I wanted to go for a drink with her. She's nice, I get on really well with her. She's funny, she's pretty.”

John Paul is suddenly very glad he's facing away from the screen. He squeezes the dishcloth in his hand and tries to steady his voice as he simply says, “Right.”

“But I told her I was seeing someone. I didn't really think about it, I just blurted it out. And afterwards, I was thinking...” He waits until John Paul is looking at the screen again before continuing. “What are we doing here? I know there's six thousand, nine hundred and fifty-five miles between us-”

“Wow, that's exact.”

“Yeah, I looked it up. John Paul, what are we doing?”

John Paul scrubs far harder than necessary at his plate. He doesn't know if he wants to run away from this or leap towards it.

“We're mates,” he says. “We're old mates who haven't seen each other for ages and we're getting back to being mates.”

“Just mates? We've tried that before, it didn't work.”

“We tried being together before, that didn't work either.”

“It didn't work cos we were in different places.”

“Craig, we're literally in different places.”

“I mean emotionally, mentally,” Craig says, rolling his eyes. “You – you were sorted. You had a career, you were getting on with being a grown-up. Me, I started a business degree in the middle of a recession and then graduated only to find there was no pot of gold waiting for me. I was lost. It's taken me a few years but I'm doing what I want to do now, I'm not acting like a kid any more. I've caught up with you.”

“And what if things get hard again?”

“Then I'll think back over the past few years and realise that nothing can be worse than being without you.”

John Paul tries to search for more excuses but instead he smiles and says, “Do you want to come out here for a bit?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just for a week or so, maybe. The summer holidays start next month here, maybe you could come out then. We can just... see how things go. Take it slow.”

“Yeah, slow. Slow is good.”

* * *

Slow is honestly their intention. 

Three weeks later, at the start of John Paul's summer holidays, Craig arrives in Singapore. His flight lands late at night, so he goes straight to his hotel to rest. 

The next morning, John Paul drops Matthew off with Janet – her son and grandchildren are visiting and she's taking Matthew with them on their trip to the zoo. 

John Paul hasn't told her everything about Craig, just that he's an ex-boyfriend and they've reconnected and he thinks there might be some lingering feelings there but he's not getting his hopes up. 

“So he's the one that got that got away,” Janet had said wistfully.

“You read too many romance novels.”

“No such thing!”

He meets Craig at his hotel room and when Craig opens the door John Paul feels like all the breath has been sucked out of him, then Craig smiles and the world comes back into focus.

“You made it,” John Paul says.

“Come here, you.”

They sink into a hug and John Paul is startled for a moment to realise that Craig smells different. He's changed his shower gel at some point over the past four and a half years. It's just one of maybe dozens of small changes they're going to have to re-learn about each other.

They go to the Botanic Gardens for the day, walking through the peaceful idyll, keeping to the shade as the sun creeps higher. The light darts and weaves through the trees and John Paul can barely take his eyes off the way it illuminates Craig's skin.

“I was really nervous about coming out here, you know,” Craig says, as they sit in front of the lake after lunch.

“Me too,” John Paul admits. “Craig, whatever else happens, I don't want to mess up our friendship again. You mean too much to me.”

“Same here.”

“I promise there's going to be no more jealousy, no more insecurity.”

“Are you sure?” Craig says. “Because if you still have any problems, you need to tell me now.”

John Paul sighs and turns his face towards the hint of a breeze that's made its way inland from the coastline.

“I guess I still don't understand it but I do accept it. For me, being gay is part of who I am. It's not all of it, it's just one piece, but it is part of my identity. But for you...”

“For me it's about what I want and what I feel, not who I am.”

He turns back to face Craig. “And what do you want?”

“You. I've always wanted you.”

The sun is moving lower in the sky, dappling through the trees, when Janet calls. John Paul can see that Craig is trying not to look disappointed. He keeps his own face impassive as he listens to what Janet is saying.

“I guess I should go back to my hotel then,” Craig says, when John Paul hangs up.

“You could. Or you could come back to my apartment with me and I can make dinner.”

“What about Matthew? I thought we agreed it was too soon for me to meet him.”

“It is. But... apparently Matthew and Logan – that's Janet's grandson – have begged Janet to let Matthew stay the night. She said it's fine with her if it's okay with me.”

“And you said yes?”

“I said yes.”

They walk back to John Paul's apartment in the light-flecked evening. John Paul keeps his fists plunged deep into his pockets to avoid the temptation to hold Craig's hand.

As they walk through the door, John Paul tries to pull himself back to reality. Having Craig here feels like some kind of magic, like dreams and memories are colliding. But they promised themselves they would go slow and he wants to try and keep that promise – not just for Matthew's sake but to give themselves time to breathe.

But then he looks at Craig. He's standing a few paces away, leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms braced behind him. He looks like home. When they lock eyes, John Paul feels a magnet pull as he crosses the space between them, and then they're kissing, so desperately and deeply, like they're trying to make up for all the kisses they've missed.

“John Paul...”

Craig's voice is ragged and breathless. He's heard it like that so many times, but not for so long. As they clutch at each other, John Paul feels like the fog that has surrounded his life for four and a half years is finally lifting. They're so far from where they were, yet they've found their way back to each other.

Somehow he manages to manoeuvre them into the bedroom where their fumbling hands tug desperately at their clothes, and then there's warm skin and breath mingling, and as they stretch out on the bed, gasping and thrusting against each other, John Paul knows his body is back where it belongs. 

Afterwards, as they fall asleep in a tangle of limbs, John Paul listens to the soft, familiar rhythm of Craig's breathing and finds that his mind is calmer than it has been in years.

* * *

 **From** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**To** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**Subject** : See you soon  
**Date: Fri 23/06/2017 06.57 (GMT +8)**

Hey you,

My alarm went off ten minutes ago. I'm having a coffee in my hotel room and watching the sunrise. It looks amazing. This past week with you has been amazing. You're amazing. I love you so, so much. I miss you already and we're still in the same country. What am I going to be like when we go back to having thousands of miles between us?

I'm going to brush my teeth now and then get a taxi to the airport. 

I don't want to go.

Can I come back?

Craig xxx

 

 **From** : jp_mcqueen@hotmail.co.uk  
**To** : craig.dean@gmail.com  
**Sub** : Re: See you soon  
**Date: Fri 23/06/2017 08:24 (GMT+8)**

Craig,

You'd better.

I love you too.

Have a safe flight. Let me know when you land.

JP xxx

* * *

Craig comes back a month later and this time he plans to stay for the full three months his passport allows him without a visa. 

He still books a hotel room for the first few weeks – they agree it's too soon for Matthew to see him moving in – but where their first week together was full of snatched moments, this time they've decided Craig should meet their son.

Craig stands at the entrance to Universal Studios, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. He smiles as he sees John Paul approach and his eyes flicker down to the little boy clutching on to John Paul's hand and trotting beside him. The image startles him in a way he hadn't expected. John Paul is a _dad_ and Craig has a long way to go before he earns that title.

He regrets that he wasn't ready for this before but he knows if he'd forced himself to stay for Matthew's sake then he would have ended up resenting him, which would have been far worse. 

“Matthew, this is my friend Craig who I was telling you about,” John Paul says. “Say hello.”

Matthew fixes him with an inscrutable stare. “Hi.”

“Hi, mate,” Craig says. “I like your t-shirt.” He points to where the Paw Patrol pups grin out from Matthew's top. “Who's your favourite?”

“Chase.”

“Ah, Chase is cool. I like Marshall the best though.” 

Matthew just looks up at John Paul. “Can we go in now?”

“Yeah, I've got the tickets, come on.” He peers at Craig over the top of his sunglasses as they walk in. “Marshall?”

“What? I did my homework.”

They stay at the theme park for most of the day and Craig takes Matthew on the Sesame Street Spaghetti Space Chase three times. It's when they get home, all of them hot and sweaty and with aching feet, that Matthew says, “Daddy, is Craig your boyfriend?”

“Um. Uh... wuh...” John Paul stutters uselessly.

“I used to be,” Craig says carefully. “A long time ago. Before you were born.”

“Yeah...” John Paul takes over, “and we'd both like it if we could be boyfriends again now. How would you feel about that?” 

Matthew just shrugs.

“Actually, I was going to be your dad as well,” Craig says. “We both were – but I couldn't look after you back then.”

“Why not?”

“I just couldn't. I know it's hard to understand, but it made me really sad and I'd really like it if you and me could be friends now. What do you reckon?”

Matthew blinks and looks at John Paul. “Can I go and watch TV?”

“No, you need to get ready for bed.”

“Dad-”

“Matthew McQueen, don't argue with me. Go and put your pyjamas on.”

He scowls and stomps as he goes into his bedroom but he does what he's told.

“I don't think he likes me very much,” Craig says.

“It's not you, it's my fault,” John Paul replies. “He's had a parade of men traipsing through his life, he's going to be suspicious of you for a while.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

One night, a few weeks later, the three of them get dinner from a street vendor – Craig and Matthew each have a chicken and noodle dish but John Paul goes for something laden with prawns. 

He starts throwing up about twelve hours later.

He spends the next three days moving between his bed and the bathroom, only vaguely aware of Craig occasionally coming in with water (which comes straight back up) and toast (which he doesn't dare touch). He eventually emerges to find Craig and Matthew dancing around the kitchen to 'Moves Like Jagger', and an impressive X-Wing and TIE Fighter made out of play-doh on the table.

“Daddy!” Matthew exclaims, and runs up and throws his arms around John Paul's legs. “Look what me and Craig made,” he says, pointing wildly at the play-doh spaceships.

“Yeah, they're brilliant. Um... my head's still a bit fuzzy but I'm pretty sure you should have been in bed half an hour ago.”

“He's right, mate,” Craig says. “Go on, put your pyjamas on and I'll help you brush your teeth.”

“Can you read _Stick Man_ again?” Matthew asks. “Craig does the voices much better than you, Daddy.”

“Cheers.” He turns to Craig as Matthew goes into his bedroom. “You two been having fun while I've been puking my guts up?”

“Yep,” Craig grins. “He told me yesterday that he likes me better than your last boyfriend.”

“My last boyfriend screamed at him for spilling a drink on his laptop. Don't get too excited.”

“I take my victories where I can get them.”

* * *

As the end of Craig's three months approaches they look into ways of him being able to stay longer but same-sex relationships don't have any legal recognition in Singapore, so in October he has to go back to Dublin for a few weeks. 

He meets up with Niamh while he's back and she introduces him to her new boyfriend, Shane (“He's a fireman, Craig! An honest-to-feck fireman!”).

When he tells her he's planning to go back to Singapore as soon as possible she says, “Just promise me one thing. If you end up moving to be with him, you'd better come back to Dublin for St. Paddy's Day _every_ year.”

“Deal.”

“I'm happy for you, you know – as long as he knows that if he hurts you again like he did last time-”

“I know, I know, you'll break his legs.”

“Fuck that, I'll get my fireman boyfriend to do it!”

He goes back again at the end of October. He has to use his overdraft to pay for the airfare but it's worth it to be with John Paul and Matthew. His family.

He's been back a week when he gets the phone call from home that makes his knuckles go white and the blood whoosh in his ears. John Paul takes the phone from him and Craig knows he's talking but he can't make out what the words mean, and then there are arms enveloping him and John Paul is pressing frantic kisses against his hair. 

The news of Frankie's death blindsides them both. Craig desperately wants to go back for the funeral but his back-and-forth trips to Singapore have emptied his bank account and he's devastated when he realises there's no way he can afford it.

John Paul deliberately sets as little homework as possible so that he can go and be with Craig straight after school on the day of the funeral. 

“She was really happy we're back together, you know,” Craig says, as they sit out on the balcony in the evening, sharing a bottle of wine. “I was really nervous about telling her but she said that she always knew we were meant to be.” 

“Seriously?”

“I know. Her ability to re-write history truly knew no bounds.” He takes a deep gulp of his wine. “I'm sorry I've wasted so much time.”

“Craig, stop it,” John Paul says. “There's no point going on about regrets. We're here now, aren't we? We got a _second_ second chance! We love each other, we've got a beautiful son – and you're doing exactly what you always dreamed of doing, so you've got one up on me.”

“I thought you loved being a teacher?”

John Paul shrugs. “I do. I love it. I just don't know if I want to do it for the next thirty years.”

“What do you want to do then? Go back to DJing?”

“God, I haven't stood behind a set of decks in years. Anyway, I couldn't cope with the late nights any more. Is that sad?”

“A bit, but we are pushing thirty.”

“Oh, don't say that! When did we get so old? We were in school uniforms when we met! Where did the last decade go?”

“I think it's called growing up.” He reaches over and runs his fingers through John Paul's hair. “You still haven't told me what you want to do.”

“You'll think it's daft.”

“No I won't.”

John Paul leans forward and stares out across the twilight. “I'd love to be a writer. I've spent years teaching other people's books – I'd love to write my own.”

“So what's stopping you?”

“I... I don't know. Time. Confidence.” 

“Those sound like excuses you're going to regret if you don't do it.” He shifts closer to John Paul. “I've been looking into my visa options again. If I move the company to Singapore, I reckon can get an entrepreneur pass, so I can stay. I'd have to talk to the investors about it first but as long as they agree, I could do it.”

“Would they agree?”

“I hope so. I mean, it's not ideal. I know they want me to focus on their side of the world first but-”

“Craig, I'm not going to let you jeopardise your future. You've worked too hard.”

“I'm not jeopardising anything. Honestly, I read an article a few weeks ago in Forbes about the top ten cities in the world for business – Singapore is one of them! Pretty much everything I do is online anyway, so it doesn't really matter where I live. Wherever you are, I want to be there. If you want me to be.”

“Craig.” He reaches out and threads their fingers together. “Of course I do.” 

“Then why don't you look happy?”

“Because I don't know if I want to stay. The exchange programme ends in March...”

“Yeah, but the Principal's asked you to stay.”

“I haven't said yes yet. Singapore is amazing but I don't think I can stay here forever. I mean, say you and I wanted to get married someday, we couldn't if we stayed here. It's not legal. You couldn't ever have any parental rights over Matthew either. I don't want to live like that.”

“Where then? Back home?”

“What, back to Hollyoaks? Not a chance, I couldn't stand it.”

“Back to Dublin?”

“Maybe. I dunno. I could go anywhere. I've been teaching at an international school for nearly a year, I can apply for a job at literally any international school, anywhere in the world.” 

With a start, Craig jumps up and strides back into the apartment. He emerges a moment later, holding John Paul's laptop.

“Go on then, have a look for jobs.”

“What, now?”

“Yes, right now.” He crouches down beside him. “John Paul, my mum is getting buried in a few hours and I'm thousands of miles away. I can't deal with any more regrets. You and I need to live our lives the best way we can. You want to be a writer – well, you start writing. You want to move to another country, have a look where you can go and I'll follow you.”

John Paul swallows hard and nods. He finds his way onto the right website and searches for English teacher jobs. Dozens of options lay themselves out before him.

“Wow. Cairo, Dubai, Zurich...” he says, scrolling through. 

“You could learn to ski.”

“Huh...” he starts.

“What?”

“There's one here in Toronto,” John Paul says slowly.

“Canada?”

“Wow, you didn't get that B in GSCE Geography for nothing.”

“Shut up,” Craig says, looping his arms over John Paul's shoulders. “Let's have a look.”

They both read the job description. It looks perfect. The experience they're asking for is exactly what John Paul has. 

“You know that Forbes article?” Craig says. “Toronto was in the top ten as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

A little over a year after John Paul left Chester for the last time, he finds himself packing up another home and another life. This time though, it doesn't feel like he's running away from anything, just travelling forward. The crazy enormity of what he and Craig are doing hasn't escaped either of them. Canada could be the place they stay forever, or they could hate it and move on again in a year. But they both know that this time, wherever they go, they're going there together.

John Paul is sorting through his bedside table when he comes across the photo of him and Craig. It's an old one of them messing around and making silly faces, from that summer more than ten years ago, when they fell in love and tried to figure out who they were.

“I can't believe you still have this,” Craig says, laughing as he plucks it from John Paul's fingers. “What do you think they'd say if they could see us now?”

John Paul flicks a finger at his own teenage image. “He'd probably be disappointed I'm not a superstar DJ.”

“Yeah, but then you could show him that novel you're writing and he'd shut up.”

“I've only written a few thousand words, I've got a while to go before I can call it a novel.”

“Yeah, but it's got 'Booker Prize winner' written all over it already.”

John Paul points to Craig's gurning image. “He'd be well chuffed you've got your own business.”

“Nah, he'd scoff at me and say, 'What do you mean you've only got _one_ business? You're thirty in a few months, you're supposed to have at least three by now.'”

“They dreamed big, these two, didn't they?” 

Craig tosses the photo onto the bed and brings his arms up around John Paul's waist, pulling him in close. “They still do,” he says, and he kisses John Paul, slowly and softly, knowing they have all the time in the world and the rest of their lives to kiss, to love, to be exactly where they're supposed to be.

The End


End file.
